The glowing blue status window that had been hanging in Noah's vision like some kind of cruel joke suddenly flickered once, twice, and then vanished completely, as if it had never been there at all.
The words, the numbers, the strange affection meters for Mia, Lila, and Selena, they all dissolved into nothing, leaving only the faint afterimage burned into his mind and the heavy thud of his heart still echoing in his ears.
He stood there in the middle of his small living room, blinking hard, his fingers still gripping the edge of the bed where he'd sat down in shock just moments earlier.
"This must be a hallucination," he murmured under his breath, the words barely audible even to himself, rough and disbelieving. "I died. I got hit by a truck, felt every second of it, and now I'm back here like nothing happened? And some voice in my head is talking about girlfriends and multipliers? Yeah, right. I'm probably still bleeding out on the street somewhere, and my brain is just making up the rest to keep me from panicking."
A second knock came at the door, softer this time but still insistent, pulling him back to the present before he could spiral any further.
"Noah? Are you okay in there? I heard you moving around, but you didn't answer right away. I really did bring soup, just like I promised. It's still warm." Mia's voice filtered through the thin wood, warm and laced with that familiar concern that always made him feel both comforted and a little trapped at the same time.
He shook his head quickly, trying to clear the fog, and forced his legs to move toward the door. His hand hovered over the knob for a beat, steadying himself with a deep breath, before he twisted it open.
There she was, standing in the dimly lit hallway of his apartment building with a small insulated container clutched in both hands like it was something precious.
Mia Harlow looked exactly as she always did, petite frame wrapped in one of her oversized cream-colored sweaters that slipped off one shoulder just enough to show the soft line of her collarbone, long wavy chestnut hair tied back in a loose ponytail with a few strands framing her face.
Her big doe eyes lit up the moment they met his, but the smile that followed faltered almost immediately when she took a proper look at him.
"Noah… you look pale. Really pale, like you haven't slept in days. Did something happen at work? You sounded off in your texts earlier, and I just… I couldn't stop worrying, so I came straight over. I know it's late, but I figured soup might help. It's your favorite, chicken with the extra carrots you like, the way my mom used to make it when we were kids."
He stepped aside without a word at first, letting her slip past him into the apartment, the faint scent of her vanilla shampoo and the warm broth filling the small space and grounding him a little more than he wanted to admit.
The door clicked shut behind her, and for a moment the two of them just stood there in the cramped living room, the old couch sagging under a pile of laundry he hadn't bothered folding and the single lamp casting long shadows across the walls.
Mia set the container down on the tiny kitchen counter, then turned back to him, her expression shifting into something softer, more insistent.
She reached up without hesitation, pressing the back of her hand gently against his forehead, her touch cool and careful like she was checking for a fever. "You're clammy. And your eyes… they look like you've seen a ghost or something. Talk to me, Noah.
Mia looked at him with deep worry in her eyes."We've known each other since we were eight years old, sharing that stupid treehouse in the backyard. You don't have to pretend everything's fine with me. If it's money again, or work, or… whatever it is, I'm here. I've always been here."
Noah managed a weak smile, the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes, and gently took her hand in his, lowering it from his forehead but not letting go.
Her fingers felt small and familiar in his grip, the same way they had that night two years ago when everything between them had shifted from childhood friendship into something deeper, something that still lingered in quiet moments like this.
He could see the flashback playing out in his mind unbidden, the old apartment he'd been renting back then, even smaller than this one, with rain pattering against the window and the two of them tangled up on his bed after a long night of talking about everything and nothing.
Mia had been so nervous at first, her cheeks flushed as she admitted it was her first time, her voice trembling just a little when she whispered that she'd waited for him, that no one else had ever felt right.
He'd been gentle with her that night, slow and careful, kissing away every doubt as he undressed her piece by piece under the soft glow of his bedside lamp.
The way her breath had caught when he first slid inside her, the emotional hitch in her voice as she held onto him and murmured his name like a promise, the quiet tears of overwhelming feeling that slipped down her cheeks when they finally moved together in that perfect, unhurried rhythm.
It hadn't been wild or rushed; it had been intimate, raw, the kind of first time that left marks on your soul more than your body.
She'd clung to him afterward, her head on his chest, whispering how she'd always loved him in that quiet, unwavering way of hers, and he'd held her close, feeling like maybe he could be the guy she deserved even if the rest of his life was a mess.
Coming back to the present, Noah squeezed her hand a little tighter, trying to push the memory aside before it made things more complicated than they already were. "I'm okay, Mia. Or at least I think I am. It's been a weird day, that's all. Work was the usual grind, you know? Endless emails and that boss breathing down my neck about deadlines that don't even matter. But seeing you here… it helps. The soup smells amazing, by the way. You didn't have to come all the way over just because of a couple texts."